


Stars in Steel and Brass

by WhatADeer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Darth Tantrum and his Evil Space Ginger, Dorks in Love, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Horny Teenagers, Kings & Queens, M/M, On the Run, Period-Typical Homophobia, Princes & Princesses, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Undercover As Gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-07-01 10:21:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15772167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatADeer/pseuds/WhatADeer
Summary: Princes Ben and Armitage make plots to run away- and then accidentally foil each other. Next time, they'll just have to be smarter about it. A partnership could be useful. Besides- they both have the same goal at heart, right?------Ben Solo. Prince Ben Organa Solo of Naboo, the son of Queen Leia of Organa and Prince Consort Han Solo, the heir to the second largest, most powerful country in the continent had him by the arm in the dark of the night, hiding from palace guards and- and he was g a y.





	1. First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a step back from Cathedrals. Gotta get a fresh perspective, I don't want to rush the ending, plus I thought a little comedy couldn't hurt.
> 
> Hit me up in the comments! It's SUPER motivating, trust me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't go hunting for a man in shady corridors, kids.  
> you let your man come to you ;)

If he could go anywhere, do anything, he thought it sounded rather romantic to live in the woods. Armitage knew the reality would be dirty and uncomfortable, but he had always had this fantasy of a house between the trees, or a life in a caravan on the road full of travel and adventure. In these daydreams, of course, he wasn't alone. He had a friend or a partner, someone who cared about him that would support him and be relied upon. There was someone who liked him and wanted him nearby. Some days, this companion was a handsome vigilante hiding from the law and doing good deeds in the name of honor, running free as he would but always coming home again. Other days, his hero was a sly villain he would teach to be penitent, or a thief with a heart of gold. No matter the variation, in these fairytales, Armitage was taken care of and doted on, and his other half in this fantasy life was strong and brave and kind, and unquestionably, shamefully and with great heartache, Armitage acknowledged, this partner was a man. Now, he was realistic in most things, dreaming aside, and he knew the forbidden connotations of such imaginings. He knew the dangers associated, knew the impossibility of a life in line with such horrible wants, and so Armitage did his best to swallow them, only indulging himself on particularly lonely nights when he needed most to escape.

His future was only somewhat certain. He would marry someone of appropriate birthright, hopefully of his own choosing, and perhaps he'd rule a nation. More likely, he would be confined to a cozy estate by the ocean as far from the heartland as possible, at his father's request, and be granted just enough allowance to buy his silence. Even more probable yet, he would meet his end in a convenient and preventable accident orchestrated by a paid hand, paid, of course, by the crown, and the king would dance on his grave. In none of these scenarios was there a sort of happiness or peace; in none of these realities was there a life he could bring himself to accept.

So, he would simply have to make his own way.

The plan was simple. He would wait for the witching hour, while everyone was asleep, and steal away. He already had peasants’ clothing he'd bribed a servant for and a supply of dry goods he'd stowed in the forest on his last hunt. Phasma, Captain of the Guard, may call a search for him, but his father would be glad to be rid of him. The king was newly married with a child on the way, and Armitage was nothing more than a shameful bastard. King Brendol VI reminded him of it every day. There was a reason he hadn't been graced with a namesake, and it was a plain one. His father despised him. To him, Armitage was an embarrassment, a weak-willed simpleton and illegitimate to boot. His very existence was evidence of a king's poor judgement. Truth be told, he had been given a glimmer of hope when he was named as heir two years previous. Could it be a chance at redemption for his birth? ...As it turned out, no. While upsetting, Armitage was hardly surprised. It was a desperate action- father had been ill and he was an aged man, after all -and when he was well again, fit as a horse, he'd taken another, in the form of Lady Rhona of Arkanis. His father had married by the end of the year, a noblewoman from the South, and with a chance for respectable offspring, Armitage was sure to be kicked to the curb one way or another, official heir or not. His father was a cold man; Armitage would not give him the opportunity to do away with him. The only other option was to leave.

There were no ties here, no love or family. All he had beyond money was his title, and soon that would be stripped of him as well. He would fair better, and happier, too, elsewhere, and he had no intentions of looking back. He would have no regrets. The prince noted, on second thought, that he would be sorry to leave Millicent, his only true friend and companion. The fluffy orange Siberian cat stretched herself leisurely at his feet before bounding into his lap to knead his thigh, her gold collar tinkling as emeralds caught the candlelight. He hoped she would be cared for in his absence, knew that there wasn't a chance in the world he would be able to keep up with her outside the castle grounds. To Millicent’s displeasure, Armitage lifted her and took her oversized fluffy warmth in his arms, hugging her as much as one could comfortably hug a cat. His beloved pet struggled only a little before he let her wiggle away, meowing in offense. Stars, he would miss her.

Armitage stood and brushed the orange from his trousers. There would be other cats.

From his window, he could see the clock tower of the Capitol city, it's face illuminated by firelight. Half past midnight. It should be late enough. 

He hadn't thought much of the castle guests. His father was entertaining the Naboo Royal Court, complete with king, prince, and a slew of others, but all were in the East Wing. Rhona was due soon, and Brendol wanted his neighboring matriarch to be with him when the child came, probably to preemptively match them with one of the Naboo queen's youngest sons or daughters. Armitage himself couldn't care less; the entire party was far from him, and the event of his half-sibling’s birth didn't interest him. Dressed in his darkest of velvets with an oil lamp in hand, he crept out the door and into the hallway.

Armitage's leather shoes were soft on the hewn stone floor, and while the lamp was small and smelled positively foul, he knew anything more would draw attention. The Naboo Court had arrived that morning, and festivities had gone on all throughout the day. He would be surprised if the jovial atmosphere hadn't relaxed the royal guard; they were all probably still tipsy and tired from their evening of swiped drink and leftover feasting. Yes, tonight would be perfect to escape. If anyone else was awake, he could make an excuse for the library or a secret meeting with one of the Naboo ladies in waiting- not even the guards would attempt to sabotage him if they believed he was having a youthful love affair or otherwise up to such mischief. All evidence of his plan was buried miles away beneath a dead tree. It was foolproof.

Armitage reached the first intersection in the walkway, voices drifting away around another corner. The light was bright up ahead, the chandeliers still burning. He listened; whomever they were, his fellow night walkers were far enough away not to notice him. He dashed across the ribbon of lightened floor, skidding into the darkness of the hall ahead, and almost screeched when he collided with something solid and tall and warm, the lamp still grasped firm in his hand. He didn't get the chance to yell, though, because a hand was pressed hard over his mouth, squashing his lips against his teeth. Before he could think too hard about it, Armitage bit. The man, whoever he was, flew back in surprise and let out the noise Armitage had been denied.

“Ah!”

He put the little lamp down gently, lest he drop it and start a fire or burn himself. The night patrol was too close to move now. The voices were still distant, but Armitage could hear them. He shushed him with fervor. “Be quiet!”

“You bit me!” His assailant accused in a harsh whisper.

“ _ Be quiet, _ ” he repeated with urgency. He glanced around the corner: the guards would be doubling back. Whoever he'd run into clearly wasn't with them. A guest, then. He turned to his tall companion, speaking in soft tones. “Who are you? What are you doing on this side of the castle?”

“Lost,” he blurted out with too much eagerness. “--I'm lost.”

Armitage could see him by now, the shadow of his broad frame easier to make out as his eyes accustomed to the darkness. His face was still cast in shadow, but Armitage had heard enough of his voice to know he was young, a man, perhaps, but not a full adult. He could hear footsteps closer now, almost able to decipher conversation- the stranger was still babbling.

“Shh!” The prince was vehement. There were three guards, he could hear their footsteps. Goliath wouldn't catch the hint.

“What?”

He turned from the light of the hallway. They were too close to run now, they would have to press close to the wall and hope not to be seen. Still, he dared breathe a question.

“Are you going to give me away?”

“I don't-”

Armitage covered his mouth the way the Naboo boy had done to him earlier, pressing him hard to the wall. Thankfully, there was no struggle. The racket of their company was clearly discernible now, three guards meandering past their corridor. Armitage held his breath, unable to focus on anything more than the fading steps and the rabbit's heartbeat fluttering beneath the doublet under his palm. Suddenly, it was brought to his attention that he and this stranger, whoever they were, were very close. Incredibly close, in fact, touching chest to knee, and that would be no problem except- the guards had stopped nearby, one of them had apparently dropped something and by the stars, they were going to be caught, the lamp was flickering at their feet, anyone could glance over and see it -that would be no problem except for the distinct hardness pressing against his thigh, and Force if Armitage wasn't red. His new friend was a poofter, a fruit, a fairy, a Mary Louise, and-

And he found the prince somehow physically pleasing.

He would hope he was mistaken. He would pray it was a dagger or a particularly oblong deck of cards, but at the end of the day, he was certain enough that he wasn't about to reach down and check. He couldn't see well, but Armitage closed his eyes anyway, if only to hide from his own shame. He hadn't even done anything, so why was he the one flustered?

The hallway quieted again. The prince pulled his hand from his captive’s mouth, now wet with the heat of hurried breath, and leaned toward the corner of the corridor to see if the coast was clear. The movement was enough for his companion to- was that a moan? Yes, and poorly stifled at that. His hand was slapped over the man's face before Armitage could even blink, wound tight with tension. His groove was completely thrown, and now he had a witness. He couldn't run now, not when he was leaving such damning evidence as a memory behind. He heard the nobleman’s breath hitch and rolled his eyes.

“You're disgusting,” he muttered. There was movement under his hand, the Naboo boy’s lips attempting speech, and the terrible sweaty feeling was getting too much. Armitage wanted away as soon as physically possible. The discomfort of the situation was giving him a headache, not to mention that time was short. Yes, he had all night, but the more time he spent here, the less time he had to flee. The hall was silent as death. With more violence than necessary, he pushed off of him and wiped his hand on his trousers with a scowl. Of all the nights to encounter such a person, this was by far the worst possible timing.

“Why are you hiding?” the stranger asked, and his tone was husky. Armitage refused to think about it.

“Why are you?” He countered. The boy had come off the wall now, appearing to relax. He wasn't  _ too _ tall, now that the tension had broken, but it was just enough to bother him. Armitage was in the middle of a growth spurt, having shot up a whopping eleven centimeters in the last month since he'd turned seventeen. This personal victory certified, however, his spontaneous partner in crime was yet another three or four centimeters taller, not quite towering over him, but making a mockery nonetheless.

The youth who Armitage could only assume was a Naboo nobleman, perhaps even a servant, hadn't answered yet. He felt impressed to ask again, demanding, rather.

“What are you doing here? And don't say you're lost,” he warned. “I won't believe it.”

“I'm looking for a door,” came the, at last, hushed reply.

“Why, so you can make advances on unsuspecting men in the night?”

“ _ What? _ ”

Granted, in hindsight, that was a distasteful barb, but he didn't have time to apologize because the other was defending himself.

“I didn't mean to- you know,” he grunted, and Armitage wished he hadn't brought it up. Rather, he'd prefer to never think of any man’s genitals ever again. Beet red, he waved a hand in aggressive dismissal before the youth could continue.

“No, not open for discussion- you didn't see me. Got it?” Armitage picked up his lamp. “Just get wherever you're going and forget this ever happened.”

“Where are you going?”

He suppressed a groan. His tone was so light and inquisitive, though, that ignoring it felt cruel. Armitage really didn't have time for this.

“Out,” he hissed, and to his dismay, there was a large hand on his arm stopping his departure. The prince tugged away, other hand bound by the lamp. Forgetting to quiet himself, he struggled. “Let me go!”

“You're leaving the castle!” 

The boy was still whispering, thankfully, and in the light of the oil lamp, Armitage could see dark eyes sparkle in eagerness. Slim jaw, full lips, massive nose, unruly hair. He faltered in his escape, suddenly pale.

“Ben Solo,” he gasped.

Ben Solo. Prince Ben  _ Organa _ Solo of Naboo, the son of Queen Leia of Organa and Prince Consort Han Solo, the heir to the second largest, most powerful country in the continent had him by the arm in the dark of the night, hiding from palace guards and-  _ and he was gay. _

“I'm sorry, what?” Armitage had missed whatever he'd said next, blindsided, but the other prince obliged him with patience Armitage was grateful for.

“Take me with you,” he repeated.

Armitage looked at him incredulously, still caught in those bright eyes. He wanted to come with? Outside the castle? It wasn't a ‘let's escape and go on our merry way’ type proposition. No, this was, ‘come away with me and let us rendezvous in the moonlight’. With Ben Solo- he couldn't believe that, could hardly imagine -looking at him like that, all he could think of was that day all those years ago he'd dreamt a dashing knight with dark hair and a gleaming smile took him in his arms and stole him away.

Ben Solo wanted to come with him.

Armitage thought of his father, of Ben's mother. That would start a bloody  _ war _ .

“Well?” Ben pressed, inklings of doubt creeping into his voice. “This place is a maze, I can't make my way out of here without a guide. You're leaving, I'm leaving- just show me the way and your secret will be safe with me.”

His secret? His secret  _ what _ ? His secret hatred for his family, his secret escape plan, his secret desire to run away into the sunset with someone handsome and clever and never be lonely again?

Armitage had gathered his thoughts enough to string a sentence when a loud bark of laughter from down the hall made him jump, the guards rounding back a third time. There was a crash as the lamp shattered at their feet, Ben and Armitage flying apart as the splashed oil caught rapid fire and lit the walkway with flame. Armitage cried out in surprise, couldn't help it, and the shattered porcelain was loud enough to draw the attention of the guards, who came running with their shouts of, “Who's there?” and “Fire! Fetch a blanket, man, we have a fire!”

Should they run? Armitage and Ben looked at each other, frenzied eyes and frozen panic. There was no time.

Of all the nights to make a runaway attempt, clearly, this was the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bless the children


	2. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plan A was a no-go, but Plan B should go off without a hitch.There wouldn't be any harm in a little fun in between, though, would there?  
> Of course not.

Armitage found it incredibly difficult not to be jealous. It was one of his worst traits, and one that had gotten him in a lot of trouble over the years, paired with entitlement and general possessive behavior. He hated to be ignored, hated to share, and hated to go without. Because of these, watching the Naboo prince be fussed over by his mother brought on a whirlwind of different emotions.

“You could have been hurt!” The queen's voice carried, floating to him from across the royal infirmary. Armitage himself could only hear relief and concern, but after one look at Ben, he had to assume there was more to it. The older prince looked irate, even bored with the affair.

“I can take care of myself,” Ben said in a low, level voice. Though there was nothing about that tone targeted toward him, the prince’s newly deepened baritone shook Armitage's bones.

He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that- was it fact? Could he be mistaken? -the fact that Ben Solo, easily the most masculine royal of the Eastern Isle second to his father, appeared to be tied to Armitage's same isolated future by virtue of his biology. He had felt Ben's arousal himself, while he hadn't taken to time to investigate. All the night, the memory of that strong, firm body pressed against him had been twisted in his dreams.

What would have happened if he hadn't shied away? What if panic hadn't gripped his heart, what if he were braver and had fulfilled a need he'd been aching for for ages? What if Armitage had kissed him? What if he _had_ investigated? What if he had dared to touch him in that black corridor, other men, adults, just out of sight, their perversion open and unmistakable to anyone who stumbled upon them? Armitage was red to the ears, and his breath was coming shallower, replaying that gasp and strained sigh of barely-there relief over and over. He couldn't help but imagine _more_.

Armitage went tense when he noticed eyes on him, Ben's, and he had a look in them that said he knew the shameful, gritty details of his thoughts. Armitage looked away with his face burning, and right then, he was grateful for the blanket obscuring anything that may or may not be there. Those eyes were deep and brown and piercing, dancing with curiosity and want. When Armitage spared another glace, Ben smiled ever so slightly, and the ginger's mind halted in an absolute panic. That was a look that said volumes. Armitage remembered his strong hand on his arm, how difficult it had been to break away. Ben could pin him to a castle wall. He could hold him down and keep him quiet-

Ben was standing up. He was walking. He was coming over. Armitage couldn't bluff to save his life, but he tried his best to look impassive in the face of adversary tall, dark, and handsome. It was much easier when he'd been only a stranger in the dark.

The queen had gone to direct her frustrated monologue toward her husband, since Ben was beyond reaching, and the irritation he'd seen cast shadow over the prince’s expression was all but past, carefully hidden behind a look of pushed bravado and easy confidence. Knowing the rumors of the fickle heart and legendary temper of the Naboo heir, however, Armitage logged his observations with caution.

“Name’s Ben Solo,” he introduced himself with an infuriating smugness, offering his hand, “Crown Prince of Naboo, House Organa.”

Armitage didn't hide his suspicion. After all this boy, no matter how attractive, was the reason he had spent the night in the infirmary and furthermore, why he was still trapped here. He looked at the offered hand, and with some hesitance, took it- only to be pulled too close, lips brushing his ear as Ben spoke.

“We’ll have better chances if we work together,” he whispered, and Armitage didn't shiver, didn't give in to the warmth blossoming in his chest at his voice, his touch. No sir. When he was released, he put on a look of contempt and crossed his arms, forbidding further physical access. Ben, amused, went on, but Armitage wasn't oblivious to the flicker of worry that came first.

“Mother says our exploring would be safer in the day. Would you agree?”

This he said loudly, loud enough that half the building could hear, and Armitage furrowed his brow. There hadn't been any exploring.

“Since we're to be kings someday, everyone is bent on a kinship between you and I.” Ben got that look again, the one that sent his heart leaping into his throat, “Despite appearances, mother was rather pleased they found us together. She says a more intimate connection between us now will strengthen our union in the future.”

Armitage very distinctly disliked the sultry tone of his voice, talking as though he had already won a prize or was offering something that he couldn't refuse. As hormonal as he may be, Armitage wasn't a beast in heat, and he wouldn't stand to be propositioned like a common whore. He scoffed haughtily. “Do you go along with everything your mother says?”

Ben flushed all over, indignance and panic crossing his expression. A victory. “No!” the elder prince protested, and Armitage couldn't decide if the petulant tone was cute or annoying. He let the smile through anyway as Ben went on to dig his grave deeper. “I was just saying that- I just- I thought-”

“You know what?” Armitage interjected, grinning now. It was too much fun to see him like this. Letting him go on would be inhumane, and if one light counter was all it took to flustered him, Armitage thought he could have more fun with this. “Some daytime exploring would be a grand idea. I could show you the grounds, the royal garden...how does that sound, Ben Solo, Crown Prince of Naboo, House Organa? What do you say?”

He'd turned so many colors in the last few moments, Armitage wondered if he'd faint. Ben was staring at him. He tried to look coy, grinning wickedly and poised like a cat on the straw bed. “I've a little courtyard of my own,” he purred, “where I keep my secrets. Surely the queen wouldn't object to a tour?”

Ben, mouth dry, could only shake his head. Armitage hummed, pleased. “Lovely. I'll send for you when I'm ready.” He hopped off of the bed, a newfound skip in his step, and passed him with the lightest of touches. His gaze dropped between them and back up again, tone soft. “I look forward to our kinship, Organa,” he added. Ben wasn't breathing.

Got him.

 

In complete honesty, he hadn't tried to seduce anyone for half a year. He had had several small affairs since he'd realized his preferences, stable boys on country tours and newly christened knights sworn to his loyalty; he'd lost his virginity to a suave merchant's son at fifteen. Another royal, though, and a prince at that, felt surreal, maybe even out of his league. It was foolish, of course, for Solo to give away such vulnerable information. He would be king of his own country someday, and as far as he knew, Armitage himself would bear the Arkanis crown. In that context, it was an interesting choice in foreign relations on Ben's part. Armitage knew he'd never be given the chance to rule, not without killing an infant, and that would send anyone to hell. No sexual abnormality or perversion was worse than that, save the habits they said the priests got up to behind his father's back. He hoped it was a rumor rather than a secret, hoped that as awful as the king was and how strongly they disagreed, that his father wouldn't turn a blind eye to something so terrible.

In any case, Armitage was in no danger. He was going to disappear soon and start a life leagues away, and any mischief between he and the Naboo boy would be history. As much of a hopeless romantic as he was, the thought of running away together as Ben had insinuated, being partners truly and having trust between them, terrified him. No, it would be better to scratch the itch of interest the prince had sparked and do away with it. He hadn't caught feelings since Dameron two seasons ago, hadn't tried since it ended for real in the fall, and no one had meandered into his eye in all that time hence. Armitage hadn't even flirted. However, without that small heartbreak, he wouldn't have resolved to leave Arkanis, and for that, he could be grateful.

Ben Solo had said his secret would be safe. The least Armitage could do was offer the same, and the best way to keep such a promise would be to disappear as soon as their tryst had ended. Men like Ben Solo didn't form attachments, Armitage had been wooed by many of his type before. He knew what he could expect, and running off into the sunset was nothing more than a tactic to earn his trust. A ploy. Those fairytale endings he yearned for were nothing more than dreams of domestic normalcy that simply weren't possible, not for people like him. He was done searching for love in places it couldn't exist, love from a father, love from a pretty boy in the market, love from a prince. He was young, but he was no fool.

So the plan, part two, was simple. He would entertain his guest, dazzle him with his experience, let Ben experiment if that was, indeed, all it was to him, and then he would lose him. There wasn't a chance he wouldn't have posted guards outside his bedroom tonight, not after almost bringing down a third of the wing and the library. There had been truth to what Ben had said: daytime would be better, and so that was when he'd make his leave. He had no desire to go about faking his own death or orchestrating some drama- Armitage just wanted out, and if he was found and dragged back, they'd just have to catch him again later, again and again until they stopped looking.

It was hard saying goodbye to Millicent again. She spent her days bounding in the gardens, catching mice and stalking birds to her heart's content. He thought she was cutest doing so, and to a point, he was glad he had been able to see her at her best before he left for good- again. In the main courtyard by himself, and his spoiled cat chewing on daisies, Armitage lounged in the grass with a book, a romance of course, and one he had read many times. He had sent for Ben rather than fetch him himself. While a personal affair, he was no beggar, and should Solo reconsider, he would not be rejected outright. Armitage was amused to find that he did not have long to wait.

The older youth was dressed in a deep blue, contrasting with the whites and oranges of Naboo fashion. He had combed his hair, it looked like, and shaved since this morning. Armitage liked that he seemed to want to impress, and told him as much when he reached for him with an inviting smile.

“Come,” he said, and Ben took his hand to pull him to his feet. Instead, Armitage pulled him down, and the prince went tumbling on top of him with a shout of surprise that made the ginger laugh. Ben was blushing again. While he didn't move away, Armitage watched him look to the door he'd come through. He huffed in displeasure. Armitage took him by the chin and guided him back, raising his eyebrows. “If we're doing this, rule one is eyes on me.” The teen opened his mouth to speak, but Armitage stopped him. “-Ah. Rule one, Organa. Three chances and we're over.”

Ben closed his mouth and furrowed his brow, but as he did so, Armitage could only study his features, get lost in those pretty eyes. In this light, at just the right angle, they shone amber, deep reds and browns illuminated in his hair like a sort of autumn halo. He wasn't pretty, not in the traditional sense, but there was beauty in him. Armitage had always loved to collect beautiful things.

It appeared Ben had stumbled upon a stupor of thought. Armitage imagined himself in a dream, the birds singing and golden sunlight falling upon them in shafts through the newly green trees. His fingers, at some point, had wandered up and tucked a lock of brunette hair behind his ear, and though only moments had passed, the easy smile he felt on his face told him he was enjoying the moments of hesitance and daydreams too much, that to indulge in pretending, even to himself, that this boy was his alone, that they were in love, was dangerous. He put such grounding thoughts aside. Armitage didn't want to think. He wanted to dream.

Ben was about to speak again, but a shake of his head silenced him. Armitage caught a giggle in his mouth, suppressed it to a chuckle and Ben smiled too, even if he looked a tad confused.

“Kiss me,” Armitage sighed, and Ben did.

Their noses bumped on the first try, and he couldn't stop the flustered apologies before they came spilling forth in a flood of nerves and insecurity. Armitage only took his face in both hands and adjusted the angle himself, leaning up to take over where his partner was unsure. He would bet his finest horse that it was the Naboo prince’s very first kiss.

Ben was relaxing, albeit slowly, easing into letting Armitage take the lead. Armitage could feel the boy's heart racing at a gallop, but they breathed together when they broke for air and their second kiss was even softer, even sweeter than the first. He could pretend, for now, that he had a prince of his own. He could be anyone today, in the garden with someone who looked at him in awe and wonder. Armitage could be a farm boy and Ben could be a soldier, or they could both be nymphs in the wood or the sea. They could be soulmates, star-crossed lovers, a match destined by the gods and share a love that launched a thousand ships, felled an empire, ended the world. They could be princes born to be kings, forbidden by station and nature and law to do as they were doing, to melt into one another and trust and breathe and touch. They could be princes born to be kings, forbidden by station and nature and law, and do it anyway. They were princes born to be kings, but here and now, they could be anyone, and in another life, another world, another time, another galaxy, maybe those fairytales had happily ever afters.

Armitage only wished with all the swelling adoration in his heart that it could be so now.

It was Ben who was in the grass later, Armitage straddling his waist. He broke the kiss and sat up, Ben rising to follow, but a hand on his chest and a light pressure, and Ben was on his back again. His hands were firm on Armitage's slim hips, and as they looked at one another, Armitage realized he could now tell when he was thinking, and Ben was. His eyebrows were furrowed, a little crease between them and a light scrunch in the bridge of his nose, lips pressed in a thoughtful line. He even tilted his head ever so slightly, the way Armitage saw dogs do when they were denied scraps at the table. The comparison made him smile. Armitage had smiled a lot today.

“What are you thinking?” Ben asked, and he had nearly forgotten how low and pleasant his voice was, how much he liked it. It was a voice that could calm him, reassure him if he let it.

Armitage slid one hand from his chest up his collar to cup his neck, a thumb tracing Ben's jaw. Armitage shook his head a little. “Nothing,” he murmured. “I just wanted to look at you a little longer.”

Ben grinned incredulously, unbelieving but still amused. “Look away,” he chuckled. “What do you see?”

Armitage settled down again, lying on his stomach and twirling his fingers through Ben's hair, spread out over the ground. “I see a prince,” he said simply, plucking a nearby clover bloom.

"As do I," Ben interjected, still not understanding. Armitage shushed him.

“I see a prince with light in his eyes. Someone who believes in magic.”

“Magic,” Ben echoed. Blue eyes met brown, Armitage's nimble fingers pausing their quest to tie his clovers into a chain.

“I know you do,” he said with conviction. “I wasn't sure at first, but I'm certain of it. You believe in magic as much as I do, even if you don't know it yet.”

Ben frowned, but his expression lightened to curiosity in a moment. Another parlor trick that made Armitage doubt. “How can you know that I know, when I couldn't say?”

Armitage’s lips were soft at the corner of his mouth, chaste. “Because.” He kissed up his jaw to his cheek, lingered at his temple, whispered in his ear as those large, wandering hands skimmed fingers under his shirt and made him shudder in delight, “Someone with no faith in the impossible doesn't do what can't be done, Ben Solo.” His smile crept into his voice, jumping a bit when his hand grazed his bare side, “--Not the way you're doing right now.”

Ben seemed to enjoy the light shivers and sighs he could pull from nothing at all, and proved he had learned something when he captured the lithe prince in a kiss. “Those were a lot of double negatives,” he breathed against his lips, and before Armitage could really respond, Ben had tangled a hand in his hair and deepened the kiss, compelled him to open his mouth in a gasp and slid their tongues together. Armitage felt positively airborne, high as a kite as his breath was stolen again and again. There was a mounting he recognized, a heat in the pit of his stomach, and a wave of frustrated impatience overtook him. Daydreaming and romance be damned, Armitage wanted him _now._

Ben had clearly been more than happy to oblige, but he hadn't gotten the chance. There was shouting in the distance, people calling orders, running, demanding calm. The spell was broken.

“Something's happened,” Armitage said. “It sounds bad. We should- we should go inside,” his tone indicated slight panic. He hadn't heard such a ruckus outside the castle before. What was going on? A seige? He listened, could hear the clash of swords. He went pale.

He was on his feet quickly, pulling Ben up as he went and turning himself around in search of Millicent.

“Millie!” He called, clicking his tongue to draw her attention. Ben hadn't said anything, hadn't moved beyond standing. He said something, something too quiet to catch over his racing thoughts. “Millicent, come here,” he pleaded, and stars, he hated to leave her out in such danger. The gardens were surrounded by tall groves and hedges, hidden from the eye, but archers would be enough to break their bubble of safety. Ben's hand was on his arm, yanking him close. His eyes were bright.

“This is our chance,” he enthused, “this is when we go- now! Come on! We can manage the rest later, but this is the only shot we've got at getting out of here!”

“ _Are you out of your mind?_ ”

Ben's smile was wide and contaigous, even manic. “Maybe? Who cares, let's go!”

He took his hand and started to make good on his word, headed straight for the trees as Armitage dragged his heels, babbling, “But Millie and the plan and-” Ben was kissing him. His protests died on his lips and his thoughts scrambled, a hand pressed to his lower back and the other on his arm. He couldn't pull away if he tried, and there was so much going on he felt lightheaded. Ben took his hand again when he let go after what felt like ages and no time at all.

“Come with me,” he said urgently. The chaos on the other side of the castle was getting more frantic, and closer. “There's no time, Armitage, we have to _go._ Don't make me leave you here.”

“--Okay,” he heard himself answer, swept away by Ben, by everything. When had all this gotten so out of control? He came to himself as he was being pulled away into a run. There were arrows somewhere, he could hear them zipping through the air and landing. A flash of orange- Armitage stopped dead and caught her, Ben pulling at him insistently. Millicent was frightened, squirming and meowling, but Armitage held her by the scruff of the neck to still her and ran.

They breached the orchard, ran and ran through the oranges to the peaches, and further yet to the hunting grounds, the grand oaks and sycamore towering over them and the sky blotted out in large clusters of green. They ran until they couldn't anymore, until they felt sick from lack of breath.

In the grass far behind them lie a well worn romance novel forgotten, its binding pierced through with an arrow pointed in a knife of steel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get to keep the cat after all :)


	3. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our royal highnesses make royal pains of each other.

The hunting grounds were extensive. Armitage would have preferred to have a horse or some other mode of transportation, but there was no going back, not while Arkanis was under attack. His father was bloodthirsty and had many enemies, but none large enough to survive a full-scale conflict on Arkanisan soil. Was an alliance made between the smaller nations? Had the Naboo betrayed them, as the only country strong enough to stand a chance? Furthermore, if Queen Leia had betrayed them, where did that place Ben's allegiance? He had said he was running away, looking for a castle exit, but Armitage's own rooms were only meters away. Had Ben been on his way to warn him, and changed his mind? Had he come to assassinate the heir before they did away with the king this morning, or had the prince been telling the truth? Ben had showed disdain for his people and his country, clear in his attitude, but Armitage had also noticed several times he'd concealed a thought or feeling. He'd seen him try to manipulate. Armitage looked at his companion, with his dark hair and dark eyes. He was of Naboo and looked it. Much of Arkanis was fair skinned and fair-haired. Mountains cut a natural border through the mainland, casting much of the kingdom in cold, long winters half the year. If the Organas really were a snake in the grass, Ben would not only stand out terribly in public, but could get them in trouble.

No matter what his intentions had been, Ben had kissed him passionately; Armitage could still feel the warmth of his hands on his skin, sense his inexperience and genuine interest. Not all of it could have been a lie. In the back of his mind he knew he'd been eager to see what he wanted to; he had willfully overlooked ulterior motives in other lovers, but for whatever reason, some part of him wanted desperately for Ben to be different, if only to escape his future of solitude and, now, exile.

These were the facts. They had been going opposite directions in a private wing of the castle late at night, and had hid together before causing a fire. They had spent the night being fussed over in the medical ward. They had flirted, and mutually engaged in intimacy. Ben was attracted to him. Ben had saved him from the siege. He had pulled him off and away, perhaps to keep him safe, and perhaps to take him prisoner. The distinction could be made simply by knowing whether Ben had been aware of the attack. If so, Armitage was a prisoner of war. If not, they were in this mess together. In the meantime, the farther they ran, the better, until Armitage knew more.

The runaways finally stopped, the two of them deep enough into the wood that the only sound was their labored breathing and the birds rustling in the trees; if there were strangers in the forest, they would know. Confident that the fighting was far behind them, however, Armitage threw himself onto a fallen a tree and dropped Millicent gracelessly. Her claws had made their mark on his clothes and arms, broken lines cut through the linen of his sleeves and accented with spots of red. Ben was still standing, not nearly as winded, though his hair was plastered to his forehead and he smelled like a barn. They were princes of the finest breeding and caliber. Armitage had never felt less noble.

Once he caught his breath, he spoke exactly what was on his mind. Better to have things out in the open than to fret and assume. He tried to sound as impartial as possible.

“Did you know anything about this?”

The air was still, and though he tried to focus on the leaf he'd begun anxiously picking to bits and scattering on the ground, Armitage couldn't avoid eye contact forever. When Ben didn't respond, he looked up at him, only to see a guarded expression and intense focus that made Armitage want to shrink. A beat passed, and Ben answered with another question.

“What do you mean?”

Ben had his arms across his chest, brow furrowed. That seemed to be a common look for him: confused and defensive. Armitage sighed and turned back to his leaves; Solo had never been praised for academics, only heroic acts and sports. He couldn't be surprised or upset by the fact that he had to clarify every single thing he said.

“The siege,” Armitage said frankly. “Does Naboo have any part of it that you're aware of?”

It was much more a question than an accusation. The guise of friendly diplomacy and peace was an underhanded tactic, more so than Queen Leia was known to be, but his father would have done it if he knew how to get away with it. The Prince Consort was on the throne and their lands were well defended, plus there were Naboo people within the Arkanisan castle, close to the Arkanisan king, close to the king's sole heir. The Naboo, while elegant, were fearsome defenders. If the siege was successful, all the Naboo had to do was kill off the old king in his own lands and take the throne.

If it was all as Armitage suspected, Ben would be crowned over the territory while his mother returned to the heartland. Armitage himself would either swear allegiance or be killed. It made more and more sense the longer he thought about it.

Ben was staring at him. The air had gone cold, and for some reason, Armitage's heart had picked up with it. Was he angry? Why wasn't he saying anything? Armitage was starting to panic, frantic energy left over from the mental shutdown running off so abruptly had caused. _Flee,_  something said. _Run as fast as you can._

Ben didn't explode in anger, didn't rant or rave, but there was tension radiating from every nerve, as though about to strike him. Would he? He could, if he wanted, and while the Arkanisan could fight if necessary, the Naboo were known for their physical prowess. --No, that was silly. Ben had saved him, he wouldn't cause him harm. Right? Armitage dared a glance back and found himself caught, chest tight and too nervous to breathe, steeling himself to quell his racing heart. He was in no danger, no danger. Not afraid. He couldn't fear hostile takeover when he had denounced his lineage. He wanted no part of it, he didn't care. He didn't.

“Did you know?” He tried again, quieter. “Is that why you wanted me to show you a way inside?”

“I'm not at liberty to say,” Ben bit at last. The words came as a snarl that threw Armitage off, but only slightly. If he knew, and Armitage knew, what was the point in being evasive?

“Well, why not?” Armitage said haughtily, folding his arms in turn. “Either this is your mother's doing, or you don't know. You're not exactly making a good case for yourself.” He could hear his voice reaching levels of entitlement, but cared little. He didn't care for much these days, it seemed; only fantasies and poetry, and not being killed by beguiling princes with pretty eyes.

Ben was less direct. “Because I'm not to speak of it,” he snapped. Armitage rolled his eyes, exasperated.  That was a valid argument if he'd ever heard one. _Because I said so,_  yes, that was very grown up. Ben looked like he was ready to move on, pulling Armitage up from his resting place with less tenderness than he'd used in the courtyard. Much less. It stung- everything about this stung, and tore at some sentimental part of himself he loathed. He didn't mean to be emotional, didn't want to be. Armitage swallowed it down and buried it under betrayal, hate. He had been foolish, and he wouldn't do so again. He was a prince born to be a king, and was denied his birthright at every turn. He had thought rejecting it would grant him some kind of closure or control, but it didn't. It landed him here, here with a liar and a coward and- and he was a coward, too. He should have stayed. He should have stayed and fought for his people.

Running wasn't taking control. Running was losing. Maybe if he'd been less sheltered, if his father had given him a chance, Armitage wouldn't still be so naive. Maybe he might have known better than to trust so blindly in things and people and opportunities that were too good to be true.

Ben was still holding him by the arm, as though he thought he was supporting him. Perhaps he was. Ben was watching, waiting, though Armitage couldn't decide what. He wished desperately that he didn't care. Ben's voice rang low in his ear, little kindness in it. The bit there was, Armitage was certain, he had imagined.

“You said you had supplies out here. Where?”

The Arkanis prince shook him off and straightened his shirt, wrecked by grass stains and claws. A crown prince, an heir to a vast empire. He would be no simpering romantoc, not to someone so willing to turn on him. His tone was as indignant as before, offended, entitled, bratty. It was superficial, but it was safe.

“I don't remember.”

“ _Where?”_

Armitage narrowed his eyes, and the two challenged each other. This was not the same person he had run into in the hall the night before. This was not the boy he had giggled and sighed over, dragged to the sweet grass and kissed in a fairy garden merely an hour ago. He had always known people weren't as they seemed. He wondered which side of this Naboo prince was genuine, if either. He wondered if it mattered.

Ben was still looking at him expectantly. A feeling in his stomach said that he ought to obey, no matter how wounded his pride. Bitterness riled in him. He plucked Millicent from the ground and began walking past him, ignoring her complaints. Ben took him by the arm again, rougher, but for carelessness rather than malice.

“Hey- don't walk away from me!”

Armitage wrenched his shoulder pulling himself from his grip. He walked on, calling behind him. “You demand I show you where, so I'm showing you where. It would serve you well to be more polite to your hostages in the future,” he quipped sharply, passive aggressive, detached. Armitage didn't look back to see Ben’s aghast expression. He didn't care, he didn't. “If I had known you were a scoundrel from the start, I wouldn't have entertained you at all. Consider yourself lucky I'm doing so now.”

Millicent leaped from his arms when he was spun around, Ben's strong hands on his waist as before. It was different now. They were standing and the space between them, while little, was thick and apprehensive. Armitage didn't know what to do with his hands. They went to his hips, over Ben's, and tried to pry him off.

“Unhand me,” he glowered. Ben's eyes were fixed firmly on him and it made his skin crawl, squirming to get away on the inside though his body was firmly planted.

Ben was adamant. “I am not-”

He was cut off by a cry, a foot jammed into his shin. Armitage wrested a hand away and moved to slip out of his grasp, but Ben, stronger and taller and, unfairly, faster reflexes, gripped his jaw and held him fixedly still. Armitage could bite him. He tried, and the older boy flinched at the vicious snap of his teeth. Ben didn't let go. Armitage felt like a child- this heathen was chastening him, as one would an unruly servant or misbehaving dog. He couldn't move, not without potentially hurting himself. Armitage clenched his fists.

“I am not a scoundrel,” Ben said slowly, as though Armitage was too upset to be reasoned with. Perhaps he was.

“But _I_ am a hostage,” he spat back. Ben did not wince at the spittle on his face, but he did grit his teeth.

“You're not,” Ben said tersely. A moment passed and he smiled; Armitage tensed in alarm. He struggled some more, palms pressed to his chest as he put all his weight into pushing him away. They were too close, there was no leverage. Meanwhile, Ben kept leering at him, smiling like he knew something.

“Would I shag a hostage, Your Highness?” Ben let him go at last, and the ginger resisted the urge to replace his hand and soothe the aching places his grip had worn sore. He scowled at the sing-song tone.

“I do believe you would try, sir, and I must say you wouldn't have gotten far. --No matter the circumstances.”

“No matter, hm?”

He was laughing. Armitage punched his chest only to hit solid flesh, with no give. It hurt. Ben hadn't even blinked, only smiled wider.

It was petty. Armitage didn't care. His pride was hurt, he was upset, and yes, maybe he had gone too far in his daydreaming. He had been tricked, the evidence was dancing before his eyes, and somehow, without noticing, he had gotten attached to the idea of this boy as his partner. That dream, silly as it was, and he knew it was, had been shattered, and Ben was flaunting the pieces. Ben was laughing at him, with that look of merriment and sadism and Armitage _hated_ him.

And then Ben was kissing him again. The shock was only a moment before he smacked the other away, nearly trembling with rage, humiliation. Fear. The Naboo meant ill will, the heir had all but confessed, and he was bigger than him. They were isolated, technically in a war zone, and if he had wanted, Ben could force him. He could do anything he wanted, and Armitage would have no one to save him, no one to exact justice, no leverage to threaten with. He had punched him a moment ago, albeit not with all his might, but it hadn't done a thing, and now, Ben had released him by choice. In war, he was a pawn. In these woods, until he could get away, he was subject to his captor. Ben would keep him, would watch him, would prohibit his straying- Armitage could feel that amusement bearing down on his skin like the sun. Ben thought he was entertaining, had already manhandled him several times. He wouldn't let him go without a fight, a fight Armitage couldn't even hope to win. All of that standing true, however, he still felt his body respond to his kiss, warmth flush his cheeks and the pressure at his lower back sending sparks up his spine. Armitage was livid. While Ben laughed aloud, he shoved a finger hard into the soft cleft between his clavicle, at the base of his throat. Goliath or not, that hurt anyone.

“Touch me again and I will kill you,” he growled with more confidence than he felt, hurt and confused and angry. Ben put his hands up in mock surrender.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he shrugged.

“Touch me again,” Armitage repeated testily, “and I'll make _you_ a princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw, hux, what a queen


	4. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the dark of the night, new truths come to light.

 Ben Organa Solo of Naboo, House Organa was not quite a slave driver. That said, however, he was pushy, demanding, whiny, and more liberal with his hands than Armitage was comfortable with. There was no definitive answer as to whom, exactly, had invaded, but Ben's silence on the matter only assured Armitage's educated guess. He wondered if his father was dead, but dismissed it once he determined how little that loss would bother him. He then wondered if the baby was alright. Had the queen mother made it through childbirth at all? While he cared for neither, he didn't want to see them dead. They were there to displace him, yes, but not by choice. Armitage knew he certainly hadn't asked to be born; he couldn't fault the child. His own mother hadn't asked for a conception; Rhona was an innocent party, too. In the end, he decided it would be better to put it out of his mind. All that mattered was what happened from here on out, to him, in the woods with a madman.

The ginger prince had stubbornly remained quiet a majority of their journey, trying to tune out his captor’s obnoxious chatter. Ben had insisted on this silly code name, undercover scheme. “In case we're stopped,” he had explained. Armitage knew it was beyond stupid. Arkanis was fair complected, yes, and was comprised mostly of varying shades of blondes, with an occasional chestnut brown, and Armitage himself was very pale, but his hair was red. Not only was it vibrant, but it was a royal coin of the king. He would be pegged as nobility on sight, if not royalty. No array of false names would change that. Nevertheless, he was “Hux” now. It was simpler and much less flowery than Armitage, and took less time to say. It seemed more of a sound than a name, to him, but it wasn't nearly as bad as Ben’s pseudonym: Kylo. It was too close to “kilo” for his liking, and he sincerely hoped that hadn't been the intention. He just might end his torment early if he was saddled with a man presumptuous enough to name himself after a large unit of measurement, no matter how accurate.

Hux had no idea where Kylo was taking him. For someone who had supposedly never set foot in the Arkanis capital before, he seemed to know exactly where he was going. From the point he'd dug up the supply bag and handed it over, Kylo had been in the lead. The brute had held him in some fashion or another the whole way, be that by his hand or his arm or allowing Hux to walk in front, Kylo's splayed hand at his waist. He had tried to run, once. The beast of a man had caught him in moments and had held him up, squirming and wriggling until he had given up. Not once did the elder prince strike him, or make any serious advances in a romantic direction, but the attitude of absolute possession was very much there. It was a sick feeling that had crawled under Armitage's skin and settled into his bones, a foul helplessness. Being owned. Millicent had been left to her own devices, though she seemed to enjoy padding by alongside them. The pair had travelled on foot all day, Hux could feel his shoes wearing through already, and yet the pampered fluff was never more than two meters away. At one point, she had ridden in the supply bag slung over Ben- Kylo’s shoulder, asleep. Armitage envied her.

He had tried standoffishness, rudeness, silent treatment, and even helpfulness. Nothing he did seemed to even minutely convince Kylo to set him free. He couldn't blame him, as stupid as he liked to think the boy was. Hux wouldn't trust himself either. He was tired, dirty, his legs were leaden and the cool humidity of the spring forest was clinging to his skin. He was starving. There was no end in sight.

And then the sun went down.

The temperature had dropped significantly, and with no oil or lantern, surrounded by wet wood, the cold set in fast. It was twilight in minutes, steadily growing darker and darker, and Hux was getting worried. He pulled at Kylo’s arm, like a hapless child- then again, the other had been ignoring him just as well as Armitage had done, and it was Kylo who insisted on holding him so closely. He was not afraid.

“Ben-”

“Kylo.”

“--Fine, Kylo, whatever- we have to find shelter. Soon,” he chided, fear creeping into his voice. Kylo paused and gave him what Armitage thought was a bemused look, though the light was steadily fading.

“Afraid of the dark, princess?”

“No, you idiot!” He half shouted, before hushing himself. “There are fae in these woods,” he whispered. “We have an agreement; we can only visit in the day, or sleep beneath a roof. Wandering around after dark will anger them.”

Kylo laughed aloud, and Hux wanted to hit him. He did, but it didn't feel as good as he had hoped.

“Beasts, I can understand, but little woodland creatures? Really? That's what you're so scared of?”

“I'm serious,” he hissed, but instead of somberness, he was met with thick, strong arms around him and a closed warmth, a near swaddling feeling. Armitage couldn't decide if he felt claustrophobic or annoyingly comforted, but he couldn't move so he didn't resist. His captor’s breath was hot on his ear, down his neck, and it put him on edge, heart hiccupping in his chest.

“I'll keep you safe,” he murmured. It was supposed to be comforting, Hux knew, but he could only hold stock still and force himself to breathe. Kylo's hands were rubbing circles into his sides meant to soothe him. Instead, Armitage was shuddering, whether from cold or from distress, and vehemently resisting any warmth or gentleness that came from the gesture. “I'm strong, Armitage,” the boy reassured him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, to his nape, just behind his ear. “I'm going to take care of you.”

And gods, if that wasn't a double entendre.

“It isn't your strength I'm concerned about,” he managed to snarl, eyes wide and still locked straight ahead. It was night, now. It was night and they were subject to Forest Law. There was no roof, no shelter, no road, and soon, they would be at the mercy of tricks and spells, stepping through the hunting grounds of who knew what and proposed unfair trades by the natives. 

Armitage broke free of Kylo’s grip and squared his shoulders. Kylo blinked at him. “Do you want to sleep, then?”

“You have no idea where we are, do you?” He spat. “We need to find a road, Ben. Now. We're on fae grounds, we're  _ trespassing _ \--”

“I should say so,” rang a bemused voice from nearby. It was low and playful, and Armitage felt his blood go cold.

“Go,” he whispered. When Ben didn't move, he prodded him with force, panicked. “Go,  _ go!” _  That got the elder prince moving, but neither of them got farther than a few steps before something dropped in their path, a small humanoid figure with mousy brown hair and wrapped in rags of various linens, some embroidered silk, some cotton, stolen from the clothing of her victims. She smiled at them, sharklike. “I welcome most visitors,” the faery promised. “So long as they're polite. Which of you boys is to be my guest tonight?” 

Armitage, wide-eyed, cleared his throat and stepped forward. “--Scavenger,” he began, “we seek safe passage through the wood-”

“Passage? Why, would you care to leave?” The Scavenger wasn't smiling anymore. In fact, she set her steely brown eyes up at Armitage until he wilted, pale with fright.

“I-It is cold, Scavenger.”

Her gaze flicked to Ben, standing mute behind her original target. “You, boy,” she called. “What is your name?”

“Be-”

Armitage spun on his heel and slapped a hand over his mouth, sounding frantic. “You may call him Kylo,” he blurted quickly. “--Never speak your name after dark,” Armitage whispered harshly. “You endanger us both.”

“It's impolite to have private conversations in company of a third party,” hummed the faery. Armitage looked back to see the small woman centimeters from his face. He flinched. “Clever, clever young man,” purred the Scavenger to Hux. To Kylo, she gave a knowing look. “You are lucky, warlock” she said, “to have a companion so versed in our ways.”

Armitage frowned. Warlock? The Naboo did not practice magic, nor did any kingdom from the east or west. There was no magician's mark on Ben, not that he had seen, and were he a true sorcerer, he would know not to give his name to the fae. The Scavenger pushed Armitage aside with a light press of her finger and closed in on Ben.

“Are you clever, clever, too, magic boy? Will you be my guest tonight?”

Ben was retreating, half tripping, and Hux would shoot him if he could. Where was his bravery now? Where was his strength?

“You mistake me-”

“I make none,” the Scavenger hissed, the spines raked along her back puffed up and away, dangerous. “Clever, clever,” she addressed Hux, “your Kylo is a beguiler. His magic is twixt his teeth and tongue, he would fool you. Tainted, his blood is, black as that of,” her form stiffened, retreating herself. The air grew sharply colder, the hand on Hux's arm suddenly heavier, and he dared not turn. The look of the faery told him it was something terrible; ice gripped his heart. He blinked, and the Scavenger was gone.

There was a breath. It was Kylo's. Slowly, Hux began to slip from his grasp. His heart quickened as the hold on him tightened, however, and the sinking feeling in his stomach deepened, his skin felt clammy, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. “Let me go,” he whispered, it was as loud as he could be.

“Please,” Armitage whined, and he couldn't help it, damned the wetness on his face, hated the bitter taste of magic as the Forest Law permeated every gasp of air. He was begging. Even if he died by his father, at least he would be away from this heathen of a boy. At least it would be over.

“You don't trust me?” Kylo's low voice rumbled in his ear. In a sense, it was placating, in another, it was ingenuine, as it all had been. All deciet, all smoke and mirrors.

“I don't,” he choked in reply, the air was too thick to breathe, “--don't know who you are.”

The rhythm of drums rattled in the night fog, carried from far away. The celebrations of the fallen Arkanis reverberated even here as the chirping of sprites and laughter of druids served as a melody; Armitage trembled as Kylo's hold on him grew firmer, more sure.

“When the sun comes up, I'll explain,” the prince said, but Hux was already shaking his head. He didn't care, he didn't care--

“When the sun comes-”

“Let go of me!”

Hux tore himself away or Kylo released him, either could have happened and it wouldn't have eased the mounting panic. He was crazy. This “Ben Solo” was out of his mind, wasn't even human, was warlock, was fae, something else--

“I'm know where I'm going. If you want to make it through the night--”

“--Like hell I would trust you--”

“--Safely, as I need you alive--”

“--Scared off a Scavenger! You scared a Scavenger!”

A hand was clapped over Hux's mouth and, this time, he didn't struggle, only shook.

Kylo's tone was thin.

“I swear to you, I will tell you all. But push my patience,” he warned, “and I will leave you.”

He dropped his hand and Hux stared. Those brown eyes were soft, as soft as they had been that morning so long ago, when Hux had thought himself so witty and sensual. He knew better now. Beguiler, the Scavenger said. He knew.

Kylo spoke again, and this time, Armitage could feel the wave of ease and comfort, of attraction, and know it for a ruse. Lies, false affection, “Don't make me do that.”

And despite all this, the Prince of Arkanis, more hopeless than romantic, melted.


	5. First Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein we set some ground rules.

“That's not real.”

Hux blinked at him. Kylo sighed, and repeated himself.

“The witching hour isn't real. There's no specific time of night that's more suited to magic than another. If the sun’s down, it's down. Numeric time is...it's a human thing.”

They were huddled closely in a small hollow Ben had lead him to. It was musty and dark, like the hallway the other night: claustrophobic, but warm with their breath. Hux lay smushed up against his chest, feet braced on the interior wall of the tree. His whole person was squeezed between Kylo's splayed legs and arms as the prince, and he really was a prince as Hux had learned, ruffled his red hair with low, soft words. He disliked being unable to look the boy in the face, but the hum of his vocal chords and the rumble of his chest all around was comforting. The strong arms keeping him tight and secure were difficult not to relax into. Hux's words had begun to slur- he was so warm, and so safe -but he pushed to stay awake. This whole thing was, and should be, upsetting. His cat was gone somewhere, his country was in shambles from an invasion, and he was being held captive by a very attractive non-human entity who at this very moment was bewitching him.

Kylo didn't even have the decency to lie about it.

“I didn't know it would help this much,” he chuckled. “I might just-”

“Don't you dare,” Armitage warned, and the resulting laughter made him blush.

It was halfway through the night, and in hushed tones, Kylo had explained a few things, though he had said it might be clearer in the morning. They could speak freely, then. He was a kind of Changeling, he had said. Taken as a child, he had been gifted by the Faery King and then returned, both a prince of Naboo and of the Darker Magic. Ben, while his given name, was for the human him, someone who had died a long time ago. Kylo, meanwhile, was Ben reborn stronger, with doubly the purpose and ability.

Hux had read stories about men who had fallen in love with nymphs and fae princesses, women who had swooned over warriors of the trees. His own fantasies had rarely included this level of drama, but he supposed he could work with it. As frightened as he knew he ought to be, Kylo fit the ideal bill. He was handsome and royal and strong and wanted to keep him. Granted, he would have hoped to have more influence than that of a common pet, but a consort to a magic prince didn't sound horrible, and Kylo still wanted him. For what, though, he wouldn't say.

“Forest Law,” Kylo chided to every question he couldn't answer directly. “I'll tell you tomorrow.”

Armitage, for one, was getting tired of it all. Kylo, for the first time all day, respected his want for quiet. When the Arkanisan prince at last closed his eyes and sighed gentle and deep, he allowed himself little more than a smile.

The morning came with grogginess and discomfort. Everything was wet with fog and water seeped up through their clothing from the ground, making their skin damp and clammy. It was warm, unbearably so, with Kylo so close, and Armitage felt his body had been folding tightly together for so long, he barely remembered how to move it. He groaned with his joints as he eased them into motion- it hurt, and maneuvering his legs from the walls of the hollow took extra help from his hands and arms. From there, it was a period of uncomfortable wiggling into the open air and a conscious effort to ignore the fae prince’s stirring. Kylo seemed to be trying to help him, but of course, that made it more complicated, and the moment he felt his whole person in the chill morning air, all he could do was hold his breath. He had no right yelling this early, but the urge was there.

A faery, like with wings and magic and power, contracts and obligations to the Old Laws. Forest Law, specifically, as far as Arkanis was concerned. If Armitage could piece together Kylo's story the other night- and it was Kylo, not Ben -it meant that he was indeed in real danger, just not the kind he initially thought. This wasn't a political kidnapping, it was a magical abduction, and a scenario he had never prepared for.

“It's morning,” Armitage finally croaked, mouth dry, and suddenly, he was struck with how thirsty he was. “Fess up.”

Kylo hadn't left the tree, still crammed in between roots and cast in the dark. He knew he was awake, could hear him breathing over there- Armitage sat up a little too fast, with an instant headache. Leaves were caught in his hair, hung in his eyes, dirt stuck to his face. 

“--Hey,” he chided again. He kicked the tree, “ _ Hey _ .” And Kylo caught his foot. Armitage tried to kick out of his grip, but it didn't work. The older boy- was he older? Armitage didn't remember -Kylo shoved his leg back at him and clamored out of the hollow in one swoop. He looked worse than Armitage had hoped. Well, he looked fantastic, which was the opposite of what he had hoped. A night in the forest seemed to rejuvenate him, brighten his eyes and clear his skin, but the weight of sleep was soft to look at, and Armitage had no want for a handsome, sleep-kissed warlock, as the Scavenger had Christened, manhandling him.

Armitage pulled his limbs to himself protectively, and Kylo yawned.

“If my Master hears you disrespected the realm on my charge, it'll suck.”

Armitage snorted.

“--For lack of a better term.”

Fine, so no kicking trees. He couldn't guess what the other new rules were, or what Kylo's secret purpose was, but he was dying to know- dying of thirst, anyway, and he had slept terribly, and everything was wet and he was covered in mud and Millicent was nowhere to be found.

“Things do suck,” he grumbled simply, and Kylo stretched and was gorgeous as though he hadn't spoken. “Forest Law or whatever is broken,” he said louder. “The sun is up.”

“It is,” came the answer, and it was in a lighter tone. He was reaching for branches and running his fingers through their leaves; the trees and shrubs all seemed to lean into him slightly, like cats, for a pet. Armitage couldn't say if they had always done that; he hadn't been paying attention.

“So what's your deal?”

The reply was almost a song. “You are,” he said, and the smile that came with it made the redhead want to scream, or blush, or vomit, but he settled for tearing the grass.

So he was part of the deal- the literal faery deal. Fine. But that still didn't answer, “Who invaded?”

“What do you mean?” Kylo had begun walking without him. Scrambling to keep up, Armitage seethed in frustration.

“The arrows, the charge, the- you know exactly what I mean!”

By now, he could cut off the boy's stride- he did, and Kylo was brought to a sharp halt. It took all of his balance not to step back or brace himself, but Hux managed to appear as formidable as he felt frayed. Hate him as he did, he emulated his father, or tried to. Squared shoulders, cold eyes, but wild, on the verge of retaliation at a second’s notice. Kylo wasn't smiling anymore.

“I'll not take another step,” he snarled, “til you tell me what's going on.”

The fear crossed his mind that he would just sling him over his shoulder and do away with it- that Kylo would ignore his threat and manhandle him into submission. He could, and would if pushed, he had little doubt. There were so many weird distinctions in Kylo's treatment. There was lust and secrecy, there was an odd sense of tenderness, playfulness, and from last night, a near possession in the face of competitors. Was he to be a trophy over the mortal world? Was he a sacrifice? There was no question that there was some level of romanticism in their situation, that Kylo thought Hux somehow obligated to indulge him, but the uncertainty lay in why. 

Hux stood firm and still, chest to chest with Goliath. He would not move of his free will. If he couldn't escape his fate, it was only fair he know what it was. It appeared that was Ben “Kylo” Solo Organa, Crown Prince of Naboo and apparent Prince Regent or something of the Faery King's first opportunity of the day.

“Master promised me all kinds of things,” Kylo began slowly, words like syrup, “when I came of age. ‘My power’, he said, ‘magic more compelling than anything you can imagine.’”

Hux's heart began to beat faster, his eyes caught in Kylo's as the sound drifted over him. It was so much worse now that he was aware of it- it was so obvious now. He said he wouldn't move; it would be cowardice not to keep his word, wouldn't it? Wouldn't that be shameful? He should listen to what Kylo had to say, he felt. He had asked the question, magic or no, and he should open his mind to listen. It was impolite not to. 

He screwed his eyes tight. 

“‘My kingdom,’ he said, ‘and everything in it. All your heart desires is as good as yours if you're willing to take it.’”

There was no way Kylo had projected this much before. He would have noticed something was up- the warmth in his chest blossomed through his body and he felt radiant, ready to- to what? He felt pulled in, tethered, and even as he took steps back, the prince took him in again. Hux didn't realize his hands were fisted over his ears until Kylo had pried them away. His touch was gentle on his skin and he wanted to melt into his voice and drift away. But this was Bad. This was Bad and he should want to go home, should struggle harder, should not be rude and just give in to what his body was telling him, trust sweet Ben and have his coveted fairytale ending.

What?

“Are you listening, prince? Do you hear?”

He did hear. He shook his head.

“Armitage,” came the warning, and Hux tossed himself back and forth to weaken his grip, denied until he was dizzy because no, he didn't want to listen, didn't want to hear, didn't want-

“Master told me, ‘anything’. Any nation, any strength, any gift, so long as I could manage it on my own.”

Armitage couldn't say when he'd stopped his wriggling. He couldn't say when his heart had calmed and his breathing eased, hiccups stopped twisting his throat. Kylo still held his wrists; it felt grounding now. He slowly let go, leaving Hux to sway. He took him by the face instead.

“I can manage you just fine,” Kylo chuckled. “Look at me.”

Hux did.

“I wanted you, and now I have you. Master wants your land, now he has it. You wanted to run away, didn't you? Some royal so-and-so to sweep you off your feet?”

Hux did. Kylo was smiling again, and the trees were greener. It was gone in a moment, and with his words, dread pierced his heart.

“Stop resisting me,” he said sternly. “I will  _ never _ let you go.”

The prince sealed his spell with a kiss, Armitage dumb to stop him. It was easy to return it, easy enough he felt sick. When Kylo bit his lower lip too hard, he could only gasp at the pain. There was no point correcting him, nowhere to go or run or escape to. When his back hit a tree, he wanted to push him away, but didn't. There was no reason to. Then again, it was his life, his body. This was bad, but he could make the most of it- he could maintain his freedom yet. He would. He belonged to no one, was owed to no one. If anything, it ought to be Kylo bowing to him, pledging servitude to him, handing himself over to him without a word in edgewise. 

Kylo's hands slipped to his hips. He pushed them away. They returned, and with warm lips at his neck, he protested a soft, “Hey.” After the third time Armitage hindered him, Kylo paused, giving the ginger the chance to push him off. The prince blinked at him in surprise and it took all his might not to look away. If he could keep Kylo quiet, he knew he'd be heard. Nothing he said would be clouded.

“If we do this- any of this- it's on my terms, alright?” He looked about to argue. Hux's tone was steel. “--You're not going to rape me. Not today, not ever, and if we do  _ any _ of this, there'll be no magic.”

“Armitage-”

“ _ None _ .”

Kylo was white as a sheet, his hands a healthy arms length away. Hux took the wide berth he wanted, crossing his arms and easing into his own space.

“...I mean it,” Armitage sighed. “Don't.”

Kylo shook his head. He had little qualms on murder, on kidnapping, on compulsion and trickery, but safety could be enjoyed knowing there was at least one line, one thing Armitage could still be in control of. It was true that he had been seeking adventure, had been foolhardy and looking for strange kinds of love in stranger places, but he hadn't found it yet. He'd slept with men he cared less for, in fact, but faced with someone who could make him, who could turn his body against him if he really wanted, made his blood go cold. No, he wouldn't give in to any spell of that kind, and as long as Kylo refrained from casting it, there could be hope for their bizarre story after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Armitage Hux, actual closeted pillow queen. Someone sweep him off his feet and give him a happily ever after.


End file.
